


In His Own Hands

by enigmalea



Series: Of Many Hearts [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasy Blow job, Implied Relationships, Masturbation, Multi, Other, Sexual Fantasy, fantasy threesome, mentions of F/M/M threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25275691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmalea/pseuds/enigmalea
Summary: Solas overhears Varric and Aravas entertaining one another in the room next to him and decides to take matters into his own hands.💞 Smutty side-fic for myOf Many Heartsseries. Not a required read. Takes place duringChapter 10ofHaven's Trouble.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Varric Tethras, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan, Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Female Character(s), Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Lavellan/Varric Tethras
Series: Of Many Hearts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1243694
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	In His Own Hands

**Author's Note:**

> An apology for the long update times on my fics lately, and a thank you to everyone who's still hanging around waiting for the next bit of my stories. I'm still around writing, I'm just much slower than I was last year when I managed to churn out over 300,000 words of fic in one year. Thank you so much for your patience. I hope you enjoy!

Solas had no right to be jealous. He, of all people, was aware. And he was not.

Monogamy was a rarity in Elvhenan and was primarily a modern social construct; immortal beings rarely demanded they be the focus of a lover's existence, and even if they did, it was with the understanding it was fleeting. Even soulmates - nas'falon - moved together and apart over decades and centuries. Which was why it took him time to place that feeling twisting its way into his stomach, winding roots into his guts and wrapping its branches around his heart, entwining tighter and pricking with barbs with every gentle stroke of her fingers against Varric's neck, every press of her body against his, every laugh which fell from her lips.

It wasn't jealousy.

It was _longing_.

He excused himself from dinner with the Inquisition's agents and Bull's Chargers early and went to his room, but it did not stop hounding him, chasing him like a hungry wolf on the heels of a halla. He tried to take his mind off her with research, but his eyes were incessantly pulled from the Tevene text in front of him by thoughts of her.

He couldn't stop picturing Aravas navigating her way through Madame de Fer's fête as if she'd been born to do it; minor missteps and insecurities aside, the Herald of Andraste - and thus, the Inquisition - had certainly come out far ahead of those who opposed her. After she'd accepted Madame de Fer's offer of help, the alliance had been announced, and the rest of the night Aravas had spent fielding questions about what the alliance would look like and who stood to gain the most from it. She had played coy, talked in veiled metaphors and broad references and, in short, shown herself to have a mind for strategy and the Grand Game Solas hadn't foreseen when he'd spent time with Clan Lavellan.

She was glorious.

Solas sighed heavily and let the book in his hand close with a heavy thud. It was exceedingly difficult to concentrate on what little bit of information he could glean concerning Tevinter's understanding of the Veil when all he could think about was how strong and confident Aravas had looked in the uniforms they'd had made for the party, how a simple glance from her had sent his stomach flipping and his heart pounding in his chest, how she'd held her shoulders back and head high, confident in a room of shemlen who might otherwise deride and mock her. In those moments, she was the embodiment of the pride of her people, Dalish and proud, strong, confident... and exceedingly attractive.

This train of thought was dangerous and unproductive, but there was nothing he could do to stop it save taking his chance with entering the Beyond. His current mind state could potentially attract the attention of a desire demon, but so long as he was careful (and, when wasn't he?), it would not be terribly dangerous. He did have work to do - agents to contact who were working on securing the Eluvian network for him where Felassan had failed, recruitments to complete, spies in the Inquisition to direct. He shoved the thought of Felassan's failure aside and, after placing the book on the floor next to him, willed himself to slip into the Beyond.

The landscape which greeted him was not entirely unfamiliar; he had traveled this area of what was now known as Orlais frequently in his youth. However, the previously verdant and luscious plains were now dull and barren, vibrant green grasses replaced with dust and dying ragweed. Though he had become used to the change in the Beyond over the millennia he had slumbered, it still somehow shocked him moving from the physical world into the Beyond to find it in such a state. What shouldn't have shocked him, but still managed to catch him off-guard, was the bright shining beacon of the Mark, glowing vibrant jade and clear even here. It illuminated the Beyond, casting Aravas (and those around her) in crisp, clear, moss-colored detail.

He'd first noticed it in Haven, of course, and had become accustomed to it over time. It was always there, pulling him toward her as it pulled Spirits toward her, their entwined magics calling to him sweetly and making promises it couldn't possibly keep: promises of safety and love and contentment, of whispered intellectual debates, of heated, desperate couplings in the woods.

Solas couldn't look away as she slipped from Varric's lap and took his hand, leading him slowly up the stairs (ever closer to Solas himself), and into her room. His heart pounded in his chest at the sight of her pulling Varric between her spread legs as she sat on the edge of her bed, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. He'd never left the Beyond so quickly or forcefully before. He panted for air, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes, trying to make sense of the wave of emotions threatening to engulf him. He was no stranger to sharing lovers, to watching them with others, to _joining_ them. But to watch without their consent was…

He couldn't.

In the silence of his room, the whisper of a groan met his ears, and Solas let out a muffled sob. How could he have forgotten that Aravas' room was next to his? Just yesterday it had felt like a blessing to have her so close; now, it felt like a curse. He could hear every heated whisper, every creak of the bed frame, the cadence of their laughs, and no matter how hard he tried he _couldn't stop listening_ for the next sound to come.

Anxious energy forced him from the bed where he laid, and he began to pace, trying to ignore Aravas' familiar gasp, the exclamation of " _oh!_ " which could be heard plainly through the walls. He found himself glaring at the thin plaster between their rooms, beginning to wonder exactly what they were doing, his mind trying to piece together the picture.

"No," he nearly growled at himself, willing himself to stop thinking of it. He dove for the book at his bedside and forced himself back into the bed. There was an easy solution within his grasp; he could simply ward his room against the intrusive sounds, prevent himself from being able to hear. To do so, however, could be dangerous. He couldn't know when they were finished… and what if something happened and the others needed to call out to him? It would not do to ignore his duties as a member of the Inquisition simply because hearing Aravas have sex would make him _uncomfortable_.

The only solution, therefore, was to do as the rest of the Inquisition was undoubtedly doing and _ignore it_.

He clenched his jaw, opened the book, and read a sentence concerning the Veil's modulation he had already read before. He was reading it for a fifth (sixth? seventh?) time when the deep timbre of Varric's moans reached him. Aravas' own muted but enthusiastic moans were more difficult to hear, and Solas was trying his best not to strain to hear them.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly. It was easy to tell from the sounds coming from the other room exactly what was happening; it was difficult to stop himself from imagining it was happening to him, that her soft lips and warm mouth were wrapped around him as she sucked him. If she were half as skilled as he imagined her to be (as she seemed to be from the sounds Varric was making), he could not hope to last. Solas realized with a start he was squeezing his hard cock through his leggings, the book had grown heavy in his other hand and landed, unnoticed, on his chest.

He _should not_ be doing this.

It was his own fault, was it not? He could have stayed with Clan Lavellan, could have stayed with her, told her the truth eventually, kept her away from the Conclave, from _Corypheus_. His heart twisted painfully from the realization the only reason he was not in there with her - with _them_ \- was his own foolish choices. He chose to erase her memory, to weave a spell which could be undone if they were to have the sort of sex they’d had which had _weakened the Veil_. He was an idiot. A fool. How could he have ever walked away from that… from her?

Solas let out a muffled sound - half-sob, half-moan - as he gave into his baser urges. His fingers quickly worked on the laces of his leggings, and he shoved them down just far enough to take his throbbing erection in hand. He was so hard the head of his dick was nearly fully exposed from his foreskin, and precum had gathered at the tip. His finger slid through the clear liquid, teasing the sensitive glans, and he gasped softly as pleasure sang through his body.

Varric's moans were already crescendoing, and Solas couldn't stop himself from imagining the expression on the dwarf's face right now: eyes closed, lips parted, chiseled jaw relaxed in pleasure. _No_. If he was going to do this, he would focus only on _her_ , on how Aravas' hair would feel in his hands as he braced her for his thrusts into her mouth; he would focus on the stretch of her lips around him, the way she undoubtedly would hold him down. Would she tell him he was a good boy for filling her mouth afterward?

With a mere thought, he summoned lubricant into his dry hand as it wrapped around his aching dick, and he began to rapidly stroke, chasing his rising pleasure almost desperately. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the idea Varric may finish before he did spurred him on; he bit into his lower lip, imagining Varric's deep rumble were his own bitten off moans, as his muscles began to tighten, pulling him from the bed. Just a few strokes and he was already close, so close; _they_ were close.

The sounds from the other room stopped abruptly, and Solas bit back a whimper as his hand stilled automatically, eyes snapping open. He hung on a precipice, muscles trembling, body covered in a light sheen of sweat, lungs struggling for air. What happened? Had Varric spilled silently? Why had Aravas stopped? He relaxed back to the bed, straining to hear, shaky gasps for air filling the room around him. There it was, Aravas' soft dulcet tones, and Varric's deep baritone. There was a dull thud, and then another. What _was_ that?

Silence, stretching out almost painfully, and then he heard Aravas' moan, familiar and sweet, and his cock jumped at the sound of it. Solas forgot to breathe as he waited for the next sound: another of her moans, slightly louder this time, followed by her saying something he couldn't make out and Varric's answering chuckle. This was maddening. He was going insane. He should cast a silencing ward.

He _should_ but he wouldn't.

His hand was moving again, slower this time, as he hung on the edge waiting for her moans. Varric's voice joined hers, muffled, and it only took a few seconds for Solas to piece together what was happening. The reality of it blended with the memory of them together in the woods: the taste of her on his tongue, her hands on the back of her head as she rocked against his mouth, her gasps and moans as he licked and sucked and teased her.

_Fenedhis._

His hand moved with her moans which came faster and louder each time one escaped her. It was difficult for him to breathe, to hold back the sounds which threatened to pass his lips. He was trembling with excitement as her gasps became loud enough for him to hear through the walls without straining, her breathless excitement interspersed with whimpers nearly as clear as if he were in the room with them. He remembered the feel of her then, clenching around his fingers, spasming beneath his tongue and mouth, her excitement drenching his chin, as her powerful thighs clamped around his head.

His cock was so hard it hurt, his hand spreading the dripping pre-cum was barely a relief. It was nothing, nothing compared to being with her, in her mouth, in her cunt, feeling her come apart beneath him. He held his breath as she neared her peak, biting back his moans of pleasure, hand working quickly; his balls had pulled up taut as he arched from the bed again, every muscle begging for release. He needed it. He _ached_ for it.

Aravas screamed, the cry escaping her loud enough it felt like it was echoing in his skull. She rode the peaks and valley of her orgasm as Varric prolonged it, no doubt working her clit until she could take no more. Solas bit his tongue as his free hand twisted into the sheet, imagining her thrashing with desire, coming undone as she spasmed uncontrollably. The hand on his cock stilled. He did not deserve this, did not deserve to find his release to her, and with a soft sob he forced his hand away from his throbbing member. His tense muscles snapped, and he collapsed back to the mattress trembling, trying to ignore his insistent _need_ and the way it called to him. He tried to quiet his beating heart, to resist the temptation to finish as her pleasure-filled cries began to soften.

He didn't deserve this - deserve _her_.

He could not stop the sound that left him - the choked cry of lust-laden despair. He tried to ignore his aching cock, the pulsing which matched his pounding heart, but her moans were starting again and Varric's were joining hers, and his hand was on his cock before he could stop himself. Each stroke was timed with the sound of the bed frame hitting the wall, the driving rhythm pounding a beat into his head he could not ignore.

He could nearly imagine what it would be like to be with them: Aravas writhing between them as Varric filled her core and he took her tight ass. He could almost feel Varric's cock moving in her, could imagine her breathless and limp from pleasure. He could nearly feel her breasts in his hands as he held her close, his breath warm on her sensitive ear as he drove into her relentlessly. Would Varric's large hands on her hips grip them so tightly she’d bruise? Would she scream for them or would she dissolve into incoherent whimpers as they sought to bring her ever closer to her release? It did not take long before he was close again, muscles tight enough to rip, eyes squeezed shut, balls pulled up high and ready to spend.

Her voice was high-pitched and straining, seeking another round of pleasure, hanging on the edge; Varric cried out and then there was silence. His hand stilled on his hardened cock as he was ripped from his fantasies, pre-cum glistening at the tip of his cock. He held his breath in anticipation, eyes wide as he strained to hear what was happening. His cock throbbed in his hand anticipating more pleasure. It was disappointing, the sudden drop-off of her cries, and he wondered if everything was okay. He was tempted, so tempted, to slip into the Beyond to check, but Varric's exclamation of "shit" was audible through the wall, and then Aravas was moaning again.

Solas could breathe again, and it was coming quickly as he squeezed his eyes close. His heart pounded in his chest; every nerve in his body was on fire - how many times had he gotten close and denied himself release? How much more could he take before he had to give into his frazzled nerves and the ache in his balls? He would not nearly push his limits tonight, he knew, but he suddenly wished he could; his hand moved frantically as Aravas' pitch soared. They were racing toward completion.

He could not focus on the fantasy, could no longer imagine what Varric was doing to her or what she was doing to him, could no longer consider a world where he was able to join them; the only thing which filled his mind was pleasure. He was consumed by it: by the tingling of his skin and the heat in his core; by the tightening, straining muscles; by the spinning of his head as he panted dizzily for air, heart pounding in his chest. Nothing existed but his own arousal and her voice, crying out for release... save for the knowledge his own moans could not join hers.

His grip tightened as he bit into his bottom lip, suppressing the sounds which threatened to escape him, trapping them in his chest. His cock grew impossibly harder, lengthening just a fraction more. A mere whimper escaped him as his balls pulsed suddenly, lightning and fireworks exploding behind his closed eyelids as his entire body lit aflame. He was vaguely aware of Aravas' cries reaching an impossible crescendo, of the taste of his own blood in his mouth as the skin of his lip gave way from his harsh treatment of it.

Her sounds grew soft and still he pulsed, spilling over his hand onto his stomach. Finally, his taut body relaxed, and he gasped for air like a man surfacing from underwater. He was coated in a light sheen of sweat, his abused lip was pulsing, and his eyesight was blurry. He ran his tongue over the split as he finally released his softening cock. He was thoroughly spent, every muscle somehow ached and yet was gloriously relaxed, and although he was sticky with sweat and cum, he could not bring himself to care.

Solas half-dozed, not quite in the Beyond, but not quite awake, before he managed to come to as he heard the door to Aravas' room open and shut; he cast a spell to clean himself up and pulled his leggings back over his hips. He barely had a chance to wonder how he would be able to look Aravas or Varric in the eye the next morning before he was slipping into the Beyond once again.


End file.
